


No Use Crying Over Spilled Soup

by the_genderman



Series: MCU College AU [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (kinda), Alternate Universe - College/University, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Art Class Model, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, F/F, Gen, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers, Shenanigans, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Trans Steve Rogers, college party, darcy is awkward, discussion of trans issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 21:19:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 16,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12350847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: An MCU college AU that I've had floating around for a while now. It's undergone quite a few changes over like seven or eight months and I think I'm finally happy with it.“Did you at least get his name?” Darcy asked.“If I got his name, would I be calling him String Bean?” Bucky said, giving Darcy a look.“What. Maybe it’s a cute pet name.”“You don’t give a person a cute pet name after an hour of awkward eye contact and an even more awkward art boner. I called him String Bean because he’s about five-foot-nothing and could hide behind a lightpole,” Bucky huffed.“Yep, totally a cute pet name. Bucko here’s in loooooove,” Clint interjected, lobbing the marker back down at Bucky.“I hate you both,” Bucky said without anger.





	1. Chapter 1

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into that,” Bucky groaned. Darcy was already sitting in Bucky’s desk chair as he closed the door. 

“Talk you into what?” Clint asked, setting down his textbook and looking down from his perch on the top bunk.

“I thought you said you couldn’t hear so well?” Bucky turned towards him and asked, slightly peeved to have an audience.

“I _do_ have hearing aids, y’know. Also, you were talking loud enough I’m pretty sure the people on the other side of the wall could also hear you,” Clint replied.

“We can,” came the muffled answer from next door.

“Screw you, Tony,” Bucky shouted through the wall.

“Love you too, man,” came Tony’s reply, equally sarcastic.

“I have homework!” Rhodey, Tony’s roommate, yelled. There was an exasperated sigh followed by the sound of a door slamming and footsteps receding down the hall.

“So, what happened?” Darcy asked, grinning from ear to ear. “Tell me everything.”

\----------

One week ago Darcy had flopped down into her seat next to Bucky in their freshman physics class and shoved a lurid chartreuse flyer into his hand.

“Look,” she said. “One of the Life Drawing classes needs models. You should model for them.”

“Why?” Bucky asked, handing the flyer back to Darcy, who promptly shoved it into Bucky’s bag.

“You know how you’ve been talking about how your arm makes you feel different and kind of out of place? (“No, actually, I never said any of that, you’re putting words in my mouth.”) Well, even if you never actually said it out loud, you’ve been looking it, and I think it would do your self-esteem good to let a bunch of strangers draw you. Naked.”

“Darcy, this is why you have no friends,” Bucky snarked.

“I have friends. You’re my friend, what does that say about you?” Darcy said with a huge grin.

“Exactly what you think it does. And I’ll consider it,” Bucky whispered, dropping his voice and ending the discussion as their professor walked into the classroom.

\-----------

Bucky did actually give it some thought. The flyer said that the models would be paid for their time. And if people were going to stare anyway (having approximately one-and-one-quarter arms would do that), he might as well get something out of it. Plus, he was a broke college student. So he went down to the Fine Arts building and put his name on the sign-up sheet. 

The next day he had a brief ‘interview’ with a frankly terrifying art professor (am I supposed to make eye contact with the eye patch?) who asked him why he felt that he’d make a good model (because you probably don’t get many amputee models and it’s a chance to give the students an opportunity to draw someone different?). 

The day after that, he received a confirmation email telling him when and where and how many times to show up.

\--------

Bucky sat in the little closet-turned-dressing room at the back of the studio and listened to the students filing in, chatting amongst themselves. He changed into the thin cotton robe provided to him and wondered about how frequently it was or was not washed. Thinking about that helped him not think about how it reminded him of a hospital gown. _Not_ going there.

A knock on the door and “You can come out any time now” brought him back to the present. He took a deep breath, swung the door open, and strode purposefully to the raised platform in the middle of the room.

“Remember, whatever pose you take, you’ve got to hold it for an hour. Don’t get cute, just give the kids something to draw,” the professor recited, looking like he was used to getting the cockiest students as models. Probably something about the whole ‘pose nude for money’ thing.

He stacked up a few of the big pillows on the dais, sat down leaning back against the pile, and slipped the robe off, letting it puddle around him. The big spotlight in the ceiling was a bit too bright, but it was pleasantly warm. He turned his head to one side to try to keep the glare out of his eyes. Blowing a loose strand of hair out of his mouth, Bucky wished he had tried harder to do up a ponytail today. Too late for that now. He focused his attention on a poster on the wall, staring over the shoulders of one of the students drawing him, and tried to stay still.

It was a little after the halfway mark (announced by the professor) when Bucky began to regret his choice of pose. Well, not the pose itself so much as the direction he was looking and the student he was trying very hard not to stare at. He hadn’t thought to glance around the room at the promising young artists who were to draw him today. He should’ve. That way he might not have ended up looking directly at the skinny little blond guy with the crooked nose who was, somewhat uncomfortably, making direct eye contact with him periodically. Was he doing it on purpose or was that just something that artists did? Bucky wasn’t sure, he’d never met an artist before.

It wasn’t just the eye contact. It was also the fact that he seemed to realize that Bucky thought he was cute. String Bean over there was flirting shamelessly with his eyes. What were the rules about flirting with a working art model? Were there rules? Well, there ought to be, Bucky thought. Because he was starting to feel an unwelcome tingle deep in his core. Oh, please not now.

Bucky almost made it to the end of the class. At the five minute warning, even contemplating the utter boredom of the endless soybean and cornfields of south-central Indiana proved insufficiently unsexy. String Bean tried to disguise a laugh as a coughing fit. At least he was blushing too; this was all his fault. 

At the call of “Ok, students, you can start packing up now” Bucky stood up a little stiffly, swung the robe over his shoulders, and, clutching it shut, shuffled back into the closet to dress. And to hide. He was pretty sure he could never set foot in this building again.

A knock on the door. “I hope you’re not doing what my class seems to think you’re doing. Because if so, I will make you clean it up,” Scary Professor said.

Well, that did it. There was nothing like fear for a boner-killer.

“No sir, I’m not. I swear. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. If you let me come back, that is. Which it’s ok if you don’t want me back, I understand,” Bucky stumbled over his words.

“Come back for your next session and we’ll see how that goes.”

“Thank you sir.”

\------------

Darcy giggled. Clint _actually_ snorted.

“Dude, you got a boner in the middle of a nude modelling session? Classic!” Clint laughed.

“Shut it. Like you’ve never done anything embarrassing before,” Bucky mock-growled and threw a dry erase marker at Clint.

“Did you at least get his name?” Darcy asked.

“If I got his name, would I be calling him String Bean?” Bucky said, giving Darcy a look.

“What. Maybe it’s a cute pet name.”

“You don’t give a person a cute pet name after an hour of awkward eye contact and an even more awkward art boner. I called him String Bean because he’s about five-foot-nothing and could hide behind a lightpole,” Bucky huffed.

“Yep, totally a cute pet name. Bucko here’s in loooooove,” Clint interjected, lobbing the marker back down at Bucky.

“I hate you both,” Bucky said without anger.


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow, Bucky was actually invited back to sit for five more Life Drawing classes. Two on Tuesday, two on Thursday, and one more on Friday. After Friday, he’d pick up his check and be done with this. He was happy with the easy money. He wasn’t so happy with the whispers creeping down the halls of the Fine Arts building. The kind of whispers that turn into rumors that turn into walls that keep him in his own, safe little microcosm. He had come here, to college, to New York, to get out of that mindset and to widen his world.

Tuesday, between sittings. Passing in the halls. Muffled laughter and side-eyed glances.

Thursday morning, walking into the studio. Conspiratorial whispers that _just so_ happened to be loud enough for him to overhear, the whisperers staring pointedly at him before turning back to themselves.

Friday, after his last session. Some frat bro with his pack of toadies, trying to make himself look big and tough spotting him from down the hall. A laugh to his douche pack and they were coming towards him in what Bucky supposed was supposed to be an intimidation strut. If the departmental offices weren’t at the other end of the hallway, he probably would have cut his losses and slunk off, but after this week, he felt that he _really_ deserved that paycheck.

“Leave him alone already, will ya?” Suddenly String Bean was standing in the middle of the hallway in, absurdly enough, a fighting stance, challenging the speaker.

“Or what, you gonna hit me?” Lead Douche taunted.

“If it’ll make you stop, then yeah.”

“Why do you care so much? I thought you were the one who started this whole thing, weren’t you?”

String Bean at least had the decency to look a little ashamed. “Yeah, well I was wrong. I was just trying to have a little fun and it got out of hand. He doesn’t deserve this. I have to put it right, and if you won’t do it in a civilized fashion, then I guess we’ll just have to take things outside.”

“You really think you can take me?”

“Try me,” String Bean said with such certainty that Lead Douche actually hesitated a moment.

“Y’know what? If it’s that important to you, fine. I’ll lay off. It wouldn’t look good for me to beat up a runt, even if he was asking for it.”

With that, the Douche-Pack sauntered off to their next class or something.

If Bucky knew what was good for him, he would have used that opportunity to slip around the corner and disappear. Instead he stood there, probably gawping like an idiot (a stranger? The stranger who had started this whole thing, admitting his error and trying to make it right? In what world did that happen?), until String Bean walked towards him and stuck out a hand for him to shake.

“Hi,” He said, all straightforward and earnest. “I’m Steve. I’m really sorry for all that. As soon as I knew what was happening, I knew I’d have to catch them all and stop it before it got too far. I think that was the last of them.” A momentary pause. “I don’t think I caught your name?”

“Um, I’m Bucky. Well, I’m actually James, but that’s such a common name, I got a nickname growing up and it feels more me. So I’m Bucky,” Bucky said nervously, babbling a little. He accepted Steve’s handshake.

Steve nodded to himself. 

“Well, Bucky, I’m sorry again for any trouble you’ve had because of me. Can I make it up to you in any way?”

“Well, I’ve got class in twenty, so not right now, but I’ll think about it?” Bucky said, half surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. Part of him wanted to run away, but clearly that wasn’t the only feeling he was having.

“Can I walk with you?” Steve asked.

“If you don’t have anywhere else to be, sure,” Bucky answered. (Too fast! Too fast! Yeah, he’s cute, but all you know about him is he’s tiny and fighty and flirty. But, ok, this _is_ a chance get to know him a little better.)

\--------------

The ten minute walk from Fine Arts to Natural Sciences seemed promising. Steve admitted that, yes, he _had_ been flirting with Bucky during that Monday’s studio class. And Bucky admitted that, yes, all that fuss _was_ about Steve. But, despite outward appearances, he wanted to take things kind of slow.

“Look, Steve, you seem nice, but I’ve only just met you,” Bucky said. “I know we kind of ‘clicked’ immediately on some level– and nothing against you, I’m not trying to scare you off– but you gotta know what you’re getting into. I’ve got some things I’ve been dealing with for some time now, so I gotta take things slow, get to know you a bit first. I can’t just jump into whatever you might want this to be without checking the water first. If you decide you want this to actually happen, be prepared for some… stuff. I mean, you don’t have to decide right now, but I just want you to take this into full consideration, and not just whatever your dick is telling you.”

That got an under-the-breath chuckle from Steve.

“Oh, don’t worry. I _always_ give things their full and proper consideration before acting,” Steve said with a grin that gave lie to his words. “And yeah, of course, I’m fine with taking things slow to start. Don’t worry.”

On that note, they parted ways with another handshake.

\------------

Forty minutes into the lecture, Bucky realized that neither he nor Steve had actually exchanged enough information to be able to get in touch again and he didn’t really feel like waiting outside the Life Drawing studio on Monday like a lost puppy, hoping to run into Steve before or after his class. Maybe this was the universe’s way of telling him that it wasn’t a good time to start thinking about potential new friendships and/or relationships.

\-----------

The universe, however, was no match for Darcy Lewis when she decided she wanted to meddle.

“All you’ve got to do,” Darcy suggested, ever helpful, “is knock on every door with a “Steve,” “Steven,” “Stephen-with-a-ph,” or “Stefan” on it in the dorms until you find him or have to move onto the next Residence Hall.”

“It’s Friday evening,” Bucky replied. “He’s probably out for the weekend or something. Not everyone on this campus are dorky out-of-towners like us.”

Their friend-group wasn’t huge to start with (probably something about being weird nerds and physics majors to boot (Clint wasn’t a physics major (he was still undecided, but when asked his major, he usually answered “coffee”), but given his interest in projectiles and by way of being Bucky’s roommate, he was quickly assimilated), but over weekends (including Friday nights) it whittled down to pretty much just Bucky and Darcy. The locals went home to see family, the couples went off on dates, and Bruce continued to be a hermit and only emerged for Easy Mac and oatmeal in the communal floor microwave at odd hours or to go hang out with his girlfriend, Betty, a biochem major. Bucky and Darcy ate cafeteria food and watched bad TV and studied in the library (did they mention that they were dorks?).

Tonight, though, Darcy was hounding Bucky to track down Steve and extract his vital information, including but not limited to full name, age, date of birth, room number, blood type, any allergies anyone should know about, and favorite sex position.

“Darcy!” Bucky hissed, ducking his head and hoping his hair would hide his blush.

Darcy smiled innocently.

“I’m just saying, if you’re gonna hook up with him, you’re gonna want to be informed. I mean, if you don’t wanna do the heavy lifting yourself, I can find out anything and everything you need to know, but it might take a couple weeks.”

“This isn’t like your _thing_ about Jane,” Bucky sighed. “I’m not a stalker.”

“I’m not _stalking_ her, I’m merely admiring from a distance, collecting data, and waiting for the right moment,” Darcy explained.

“Isn’t she dating that one guy, the exchange student? The big Norwegian blond?”

“Nah, he went back to Norway at the end of last semester. Family trouble. She’s pining a little and I’m still hoping she likes girls, too. Because if so, I _will_ be right there to help her get over him.”

“Whatever.”

“But seriously. Other than that, I can find out things for you. And isn’t Clint’s girlfriend like some kind of Russian super-hacker? (”She’s a Comp Sci undergrad, I don’t think she’s a super-hacker.” “That’s what she _wants_ you to think.” “Can we get back on topic please?”) I just wanna help you out. I think he owes you one after the boner incident and I _know_ I can bring you two together like the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp.”

“And I need to take it slow, ok? I don’t even know if I really wanna hook up with him. I mean, on some level I do, but I _can’t_. I know I don’t talk about it much, but let’s just say my last relationship kind of went really bad and I need to feel things out before I commit to anything. You can help me out by not acting like a caffeinated hummingbird.”

“Oh, _alright_.”


	3. Chapter 3

By lunchtime on Sunday Bucky had finally convinced Darcy not to do anything to try to ‘help’ get him and Steve together. So, maybe it did involve threatening to dose her with enough Benadryl to knock out a small bear in order to keep her uninvolved, but it worked. Well, ok, there was also some hush money ($14.78, also known as everything Bucky had in his pocket at that moment) involved. 

Bucky walked into lab on Tuesday morning to find an envelope at his bench. Was this Steve getting back in contact with him? The flap hadn’t been sealed, thankfully, he thought as he pulled it open and looked inside. Fourteen dollars and seventy-eight cents. He looked up and across the lab to Darcy’s bench. She gave half-wave and an abashed grin. Bucky frowned and made a series of hand gestures he hoped translated to “we’ll talk about this after class” and shoved the money haphazardly into a pocket.

\-----------

“I didn’t talk to him,” Darcy said as soon as their lab let out.

“They why did you give me back the hush money?” Bucky asked.

“Because I think I passed him in the hallway when I was leaving calculus yesterday. Tiny blond dude, might not actually be shorter than me but he seems it? Super adorable leather jacket that probably came from the kids’ section (who sells kids’ biker jackets, though)? But I’m not complaining because he wears it well? Bi pride flag patch on the front panel of his backpack?”

“Uh, yeah, that could be him.”

“Ok, well, I gave you your money back because he’s adorable and you two need to hook up like yesterday.”

“Darcy. I know you want to help, but your enthusiasm scares people. Please let me get to know him on my own terms and my own time.”

“Ok, well, keep me updated on how things go.”

\-------------

Bucky bumped into Steve at dinner that evening. Literally. He was backing up from the sandwich station, trying to re-balance his tray, and didn’t notice Steve walking past. There was soup involved. It was kind of a mess. There was a soggy noodle trying to slither its way down the back of Bucky’s jeans. It was an even worse feeling than getting a loose hair stuck in his buttcrack, and there was no way to politely fish it out here in the cafeteria.

“I am so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Steve said immediately and without looking at who he had walked into, stooping to try to clean up the splatter of tuna salad. The soup would require a few more napkins than he had on hand.

Upon hearing Steve’s voice, Bucky had pivoted around. 

“Steve?”

“Bucky?” Steve replied quickly, a little sharply, looking up from where he was kneeling on the floor, tuna-y napkin in hand.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Bucky joked, hoping to break the tension. 

Steve cracked a smile. He stood back up, holding the tray containing the mangled carcass of Bucky’s sandwich mingled with crumpled napkins. A student volunteer was approaching with a mop and a wet floor sign to take care of the soup and shards of ceramic from the broken bowl.

“Well, as long as we _do_ keep meeting like this, we might as well do something with it,” Steve said, laughing a little. “You wanna talk over dinner? You can put your food on my tray (once I get a clean one), I’m buying. My treat for ruining your sandwich. We don’t even have to call it a date.”

“Of course it’s not a date. No one goes to the cafeteria on a date. And do you think we could get it to go? I’d really like to get back to my dorm and change into some clean, soup-free pants.”

“You’re inviting me back to your dorm? Now _that_ sounds like a date.” Steve said with a grin.

“You spilled chicken noodle soup down my pants; you’re lucky you’re cute. And it’s still not a date,” Bucky said with an amused frown.

\------------

“Jesus fuck, dude, warn a guy! Put a sock on the door if you’re gonna get naked with another dude. It’s my room, too.” Clint exclaimed as he opened the door to their dorm room and covered his eyes with an exaggerated sweep of his arm.

Bucky stood in the back of the room in his boxers, wiggling into a clean pair of jeans. Steve sat at Clint’s desk, his back politely to Bucky. 

“It’s not what you think, he spilled soup on me,” Bucky explained.

“So he spills soup on you, you bring him back to our room to give him a striptease and he isn’t even watching? Man, you flirt _weird_ ,” Clint teased.

Steve stood up and walked over to Clint, extending his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Steve. Nice to meet you.”

“Clint,” Clint said, shaking Steve’s hand. “And if you two are gonna start any hanky-panky, warn me so I can turn my hearing aids off, ok?”

“Deal,” Steve said with a huge grin.

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Bucky said, starting to blush and fumbling with the button on his jeans. “We’re not even dating yet.”

“Hah, you said ‘yet’” Steve said, turning towards Bucky, a hint of a gloat in his voice.

“I know I did. I said slow, not no.”

“I’m from Brooklyn,” Steve said. We may have different definitions of ‘slow’.”

“Yeah, well I’m from the Midwest, so I guess you’re gonna have to dial things down to ‘glacial’ to reach my definition of slow. Sorry,” Bucky said.

“Hey, don’t apologize for needing time,” Steve said. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

On that note, he picked up his sandwich (another soup had seemed like a bad idea) and sat down on Bucky’s bed to eat. Bucky sat at his desk and attacked his own dinner.

“You know what?” Clint said. “I’m gonna go to the library to study tonight. You two have fun watching each other chew or something.”


	4. Chapter 4

Slow though it may be, Steve thought they were off to a good start. They had exchanged phone numbers almost immediately because, well, they were overdue for that, weren’t they? He and Bucky had then proceeded to spend the next hour and a half just talking, getting to know one another. 

Steve had gone first, talking about what it had been like for him growing up in New York. Bucky had soaked up every word, looking frankly jealous when Steve told him about how frequently he’d gone to the Museum of Natural History to sketch the dinosaurs as a kid. (”Closest science museum for me was in Indianapolis. I think my 8th grade class went _once_ on a field trip.”) He talked about how he’d taken a variety of different martial arts classes due to his inability to stop getting into fights. His mom hadn’t been happy with him fighting, but as long as he wasn’t gonna stop, he ought to be able to defend himself better.

He had learned that Bucky was from Shelbyville, Indiana, which was itself about 40 minutes outside of Indianapolis. When asked what was interesting about Shelbyville, Bucky had given a sharp bark of a laugh. “Well, if you like corn, you’ll love it out there,” he had said. Bucky had then paused, looked thoughtful for a moment, and explained that it wasn’t all bad, but that it was your average small Midwestern town and it absolutely did not compare to New York City in the slightest. The only thing he _definitely_ liked better about Shelbyville was the lack of light pollution. Out in the really rural areas, he could just lay out and watch the stars. He was majoring in physics so that he could maybe hopefully go on to get a Masters or a Doctorate in astronomy somewhere.

There were some things that Bucky wasn’t telling, like anything about the loss of his left arm. Steve had asked, trying to be as casual as possible, but Bucky had pulled the remainder of the limb closer to his body and changed the subject. Fair enough. There were some things of his own that Steve hadn’t mentioned yet. Everything in its own time.

And, well, yeah, as Clint had put it, they had also watched each other chew. Not his fault that Bucky was so easy on the eyes. Steve could watch him all day, doing just about anything.

\--------------

When Steve returned to his own dorm that evening, he immediately grabbed a notebook from the Mystery Pile and a pencil from his desk and started sketching. Ok, so it was a lined notebook and not a proper sketchbook, but he wanted to get Bucky down on paper while he was still very fresh in Steve’s memory.

Steve’s pencil flew over the paper, roughing out the basic pose; Bucky, sitting in his desk chair, one leg up and crossed over the other, right elbow braced in the crook of his bent knee, hand supporting his chin. That had been when Steve had been talking about himself. Bucky had sat there, listening intently, looking almost enthralled. Steve pulled a hand-held sharpener out of his drawer, honed the point of his pencil, and began adding details. The creases in his jeans, the way the shirt lay over his shoulders. The way his hair framed his face. His smile. That made Steve smile, too. Bucky said he needed to take it slow, but it looked like he was pretty far gone. Steve was gonna try not to push, but he _was_ curious about what kind of ‘things’ Bucky was dealing with if he could look so thoroughly smitten and still not really want to act on it.

The door opened.

“Ugh, why did I sign up for a 7 pm class?” Sam grumbled, as he walked into the room he and Steve shared.

Steve looked up from his sketch. “Because freshmen get a raw deal when signing up for classes? 

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “Especially as far into the alphabet as ‘Wilson’.”

“Did you actually have any options other than 7 pm?”

“It was either 7 pm or 7:30 am, and I should have taken the morning option even if it meant messing up my running schedule.”

Sam dropped his backpack onto his bed and walked over to his desk. He thumbed through the collection of folders, notebooks, and textbooks, looking for the notes for his upcoming Psychology 120 exam. Not finding it on his desk, he moved to the small collection under his bed, and finally to the Mystery Pile under the window.

“Hey, Steve, have you seen my psych notes? One-subject notebook, red cover… what are you doing?” Sam said, crossing the room to look over Steve’s shoulder. “Who are you doodling in my notes?”

“What? These aren’t… yours… huh. Oops?” Steve glanced at the handwriting on the left-hand page. It was, in fact, not his notebook. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was red.”

“Yeah, I forgot about that when I picked it. I just like the color too much to _not_ get red school supplies. Maybe we should both start labeling our stuff better and not just relying on color. Well, at least there’s nothing else on that page you’re working on, so no harm no foul, I guess. Just tear it out when you’re done. It’s a good drawing, but it’s my _psych_ notes. I mean, look at how you drew him. You’re _mooning_. How about you add a few hearts in there to make it even clearer?” (Steve glared at him.) “I am not gonna derail a whole lecture over this drawing.”

“I’m not mooning,” Steve insisted.

“You didn’t even realize that wasn’t your notebook until I pointed it out to you. You’re mooning,” Sam maintained.

“Ok, yeah, I like him, but I’m not _mooning_.”

“I think that drawing lovey-dovey pictures of your crush counts as mooning.”

“Does _not_. It’s not mooning until sappy love poetry comes into play.”

“Hey, Riley thought my sappy love poems were cute. And we’ve been together for three years now, so I think I know what mooning looks like.”

“Well, I’m still not mooning.”

“You know what? Everything they say about short man syndrome? All true. All of it. Look, Steve, you may be my best friend, but you can be _so_ stubborn.” Sam threw up his hands and crossed back to his bed to prepare his backpack for the next day’s classes.

\----------------

Steve lay awake in the dark that night and considered that, maybe, just maybe, he was in fact mooning over Bucky Barnes. He’d close his eyes and see his face. Shoulder-length brown hair, slate-blue eyes, easy smile, little chin dimple. Steve imagined himself running his thumb over that dimple and leaning in to kiss Bucky. They’d be seated somewhere so he wouldn’t have to get up on his tiptoes or anything too awkward like that.

Of course, to get to that point, they’d actually have to go on an actual date first. Maybe get a nice coffee somewhere. Find some place that’s popular but not too crowded. Somewhere they could talk and smile and enjoy each other’s company, but without being too definitely a Date(™). Yeah. He could work this.

\-----------------

Very early the next morning, Sam poured two glasses of orange juice as Steve removed the toaster from its hiding place. Dorm contraband included but was not limited to candles, coffee makers, toasters, waffle makers, hotplates, soldering irons, and pretty much any other items which had the potential to set things on fire (some guy two floors down had been caught actually _welding_ during the last room check. There had been a building-wide meeting about that). But the cafeteria wasn’t open this early and they had a morning run to attend to. So they had a secret toaster. Steve was pretty sure he had spotted a coffee maker hiding under Bucky’s bed, so at least they had that in common.

Steve opened the window and carefully fanned the smell of toasting bread away from the door. Just in case there was an RA up and about doing really early morning sniff tests.

“Ok, so maybe I am mooning,” Steve finally admitted.

“Told you,” Sam said, trading juice for a slice of toast.

“But,” Steve insisted. “I’m not stubborn; I’m tenacious.”

“Do yourself a favor and get a thesaurus, will you? Those are the same thing.”


	5. Chapter 5

It took about a week of haggling, but Steve and Bucky finally agreed to a location for their non-date. One of Bucky’s friends (Darcy? Was that her name?) had ‘covertly’ informed Steve that Bucky had _quite_ a sweet tooth and he might even be willing to call it an official date if there was cake involved. So, on a still-warm mid-October afternoon, they found themselves peering into the display case at a little cupcake-and-coffee cafe. 

“Five dollars for one cupcake?” Bucky asked, a little shocked.

“One _big_ cupcake; look at all that frosting. And trust me, it’s _worth_ it,” Steve said, sincerely hoping that it was, in fact, worth it.

Bucky raised an eyebrow skeptically at Steve and continued to scan the case full of cupcakes. He eventually decided on the vanilla bean cupcake with crème brulée buttercream frosting and a latte. Steve opted for caramel apple and black coffee, no sugar. Bucky shuddered involuntarily at the thought of plain coffee.

Bucky chose the corner table up by the big front window. It was far enough away from the door and cash register for a semi-private conversation, but close enough to the front of the store that he wouldn’t feel ‘isolated.’ That had been one of the problems in his last relationship. When it started happening, at first it had felt flattering that his boyfriend had wanted them to spend so much time together, just the two of them. But as time went on, he had started to feel smothered, insulated from his own life. He had been going through a rough period and it _had_ felt nice to have things smoothed over for him, but when everything started becoming _too_ smooth, _too_ self-contained, he felt himself craving some of the roughness of the ‘real’ world again. Things got ugly. They argued. They fought. Finally Bucky decided he’d had enough and rather abruptly packed up and moved out. To New York City. New city, new opportunities, and enough people that he could really disappear if he needed to.

Steve’s arrival at the table with the coffees brought Bucky back out of his thoughts. He liked Steve. Steve seemed like a genuinely good guy. Kind of intense, but not like how his ex was. Steve deserved a chance. Bucky unstacked the plates and placed Steve’s cupcake on the second plate, sliding it across the table to where he was seated. Steve said thanks and pushed Bucky’s latte over to him, careful not to slosh it and ruin the design in the steamed milk. Bucky took an appreciative look at the grinning jack-o-lantern in his coffee.

“You’re an artist,” he said to Steve. “Can you do latte designs or is that not part of your discipline?”

Steve shrugged and sipped his coffee. “Dunno, I’ve never tried. I pretty much only drink black coffee.”

“Lemme guess,” Bucky teased lightly. “You’re a coffee snob and you know what they mean when they talk about the ‘brightness’ of the beans.”

“And lemme guess, you’re only in it for the caffeine,” Steve sassed back and bit into his cupcake.

“Darn right,” Bucky said with a look of smug pride on his face. He sipped his latte.

Steve laughed, trying not to spray crumbs across the table.

Bucky picked up his cupcake, carefully bit down on the paper, and peeled it off with his teeth. His first bite of cupcake was mostly frosting, but he didn’t mind at all.

“Oh, _wow_ , you weren’t kidding when you said it was worth it,” Bucky practically moaned. “This is better than sex.”

“You sure about that?” Steve said with a sly smile.

“Why, are you offering?”

“Yep. Do you want that?”

“Yeah, I think I do,” Bucky surprised himself by saying. He stumbled to clarify his words. “I mean, not right this moment obviously, but yeah, I’d like that. I like you a lot, but if I go too fast, there’s a real chance I’ll end up bringing my past into it and that’s won’t be pretty.”

“So, what you’re saying is you’ve got baggage,” Steve said.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied flatly, waiting for Steve’s reaction.

“Well, so do I. I think we all do,” Steve shrugged. “Comes with being human. We’re messy, complicated creatures. I won’t (or at least will try very hard not to) judge you on your baggage. You can tell me when you’re ready. Mine’s not a secret because it’s _bad_ or I’m ashamed of it (not that being ashamed of a secret is necessarily bad, just so you don’t get the wrong idea about anything, but maybe you’re not ashamed of your secret and why aren’t you stopping me I should just shut up and get back on topic already), but mostly because some people don’t think too kindly of it. If you want us to get together, you’re gonna find out eventually, so I’d rather tell you on my terms. On our terms. So it’s not a surprise.”

“Like, right now?” Bucky asked through a mouthful of cupcake. He looked mildly alarmed.

“Oh, no. Not right now. This is kinda public for soul-baring confessions, don’t you think?”

“That was a rhetorical question, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Steve chuckled and popped the last bit of cupcake into his mouth.

\--------------

As they walked slowly back towards campus, Steve felt Bucky’s hand slide into his. He gave it a squeeze back to let him know it was ok by him. Well, it was more than just ok. It was great that Bucky seemed to trust him and Steve wanted to make sure that he didn’t let him down. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve is blue texts, Bucky is gray texts.

Steve’s phone buzzed. Text alert. It was Bucky. They’d parted only fifteen minutes earlier. Guess I’m not the only one mooning, Steve thought.

Wanted to say thanks again for the cupcake

Even if I did buy it myself

Because it wasn’t actually a date

It was delicious

The cupcake. Not the date that wasn’t a date

I promise I’m usually smoothie than this

*Smoother, even

Autocorrect. But can we get smoothies on our next date?

It’s October. It’s not smoothie season anymore. And are you now saying that was actually officially a date? ;)

Pumpkin spice smoothies maybe? ;) ;) ;)

No. Pumpkin spice has gone too far.

And yeah, sure. I guess we’re dating now :)

Well, kind of an unconventional way to make things official, but Steve would take it.

\------------------

“Someone’s popular,” Sam commented from his side of the room.

Steve made a noise of agreement.

“But enough about me,” Sam continued with a grin. “Your phone is going crazy over there, you get stuck in a group text? Who’s texting you like that?”

“My boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? The guy you’re mooning over? I thought you said he’s got commitment issues. When did this happen?” Sam closed his textbook and turned his chair.

“Just now, apparently.”

“‘Apparently’?”

“Well, he just texted ‘And yeah, sure. I guess we’re dating now, smiley face’. So I guess we’re dating now.”

“Good for you. And good for him, too. Have you been working on your sweet and innocent act or something to get him to trust you?”

“Nah. He knows better than that. You remember I told you how we first met? How he got a boner in the middle of the studio? Well, I basically eye-fucked him until it happened. He _knows_ I’m not the sweet innocent little thing people mistake me for.”

“You’re devious, you know that?” Sam laughed. “You left that part out when you told me that story before.”

Steve’s phone buzzed again and for a few minutes, he and Bucky texted furiously back and forth. Sam went back to his homework.

“I think it might have been the awkward small-talk about baggage,” Steve said, breaking the lull.

“I take it you mean emotional baggage, and not some weird suitcase fetish, right?” Sam replied.

“Sam, no one has a suitcase fetish.”

“Rule 34, man. Rule 34. The _things_ I have seen.”

“Not going there. Anyway. I tried to reassure him that whatever his baggage is, I’ll try not to judge him on it, and that he doesn’t have to tell me before he’s ready. And that I’ve got a secret of my own, too.”

“Did you tell him your ‘secret’?” Sam made air quotes as he spoke.

“Not yet.”

“But you’re going to, right? I mean, you can’t really hide that from him for long if you’re gonna keep going out.”

“I know. I’ll tell him soon. We only just made it official a few minutes ago.”

“Alright. Do you want me to be on hand in case he takes it badly?”

“No, thank you. I’m tougher than I look, you know that.”

“Yeah, and won’t the write-up look great, ‘trans man and amputee cited in dorm brawl’.”

“I don’t think it’ll come to that, Sam.”

“I’m sorry but have you met yourself? You’ll fight anyone over anything. And ‘small-town Indiana’ and ‘LGBT-friendly’ don’t tend to get matched up together.”

“He’s dating me, he’s at least a little gay.”

“And who tends to forget the ‘T’ at the end of LGBT?”

“I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt, ok? 

“Alright. Well, whenever you’re ready to tell him, let me know and I’ll stay out of your way. But if you need anything, I’ll be next door.”

“Next door meaning Scott? I thought you said he was weird.”

“He is weird. We’ve got English class together; he’s a nice guy, but he’s weird. First day of class, he started talking to me about his ant farm. I didn’t know people still had ant farms.”

“Is he doing ant research?”

“Nah, he’s in electrical engineering.”

“Weird.”

\---------------------

The texting session recommenced that evening.

Hey, you

Hey, you back atcha

Wanna grab take-out lunch tomorrow and hang out in my room?

Doing what exactly?

Eating. Talking. Anything else you might wanna add to that list ;)

I’m tempted

No. You will not tempt me, you

What’s the male version of seductress? Seductor? That doesn’t sound quite right

Anyway. You will not tempt me

Yet

Not gonna stop trying, though

Didn’t ask you to ;)

So. Remember the soul-baring confession we did not have at the cafe today?

Yeah, why?

I was thinking we could do that tomorrow.

Or I could

You don’t have to share yours if you’re not ready

My soul wears layers. Could take a while to get them all off

My soul is wearing one of those old-timey flasher coats

Oh is it

Yep

If I come over and you’re actually wearing a flasher coat, I might die laughing

It’s metaphorical. I’ll probably just be wearing my usual khakis and button-down

Good, cause they suit you. Even if you look like you stepped out of a history book. Like one of those sad kids from the Great Depression

I do not X(

It’s a classic look. Very handsome ;)

Well, in that case ;)

But back onto the original topic. Lunch

What do you want to eat?

Not cafeteria food, hopefully

How about Chipotle? I could go for a burrito

Burritos sound good. How about 11 am at the 8th Street Chipotle?

I’ll put that right into my phone

You need a reminder for tomorrow?

If it makes it into long-term memory, I’m fine, but if not, it’s probably gone forever. My short-term memory is kinda spotty. Longish story. I’ll tell you some day

Fair enough


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's "walls covered with birds" thing is blatantly stolen from my own dorm decorating habits from back in college. Except mine were postcards, not hand-drawn birds.

It was cooler and windier than the previous day. Bucky and Steve walked briskly back to campus with their burritos and drinks. Bucky kept leaning over and trying to stick his hand into the carrier bag to grab the warm burritos.

“Put a glove on or something and stop squeezing my food,” Steve said, pulling the bag away as Bucky tried again.

“I only wear gloves (well, glove singular) when I really can’t stand the cold anymore. I have to use my teeth to get it on, and I have not yet found a glove that doesn’t either have a weird taste, weird texture, or both. And if it’s loose enough to get on without using my teeth, it’s gonna fall off,” Bucky groused.

“Oh,” Steve said. “I hadn’t thought about that.” 

Then, with a grin, “You could always put your hand in my pocket, if you want.”

“If you weren’t so short, I’d take you up on that. I’d have to stoop.”

Steve gave him a pouty face. Bucky put his arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him into a quick hug.

\--------------

Steve set the bag down and fished out his dorm key.

“Hey, Sam,” he called as he swung the door open.

“Back already?” the voice from inside the room answered.

“Yeah, we’re eating here,” Steve replied as he picked up the bag again and held the door open.

Bucky entered the room. He stopped in his tracks and stared, just _stared_. He knew people decorated their dorms, but this? This was a little weird. Sam’s wall was absolutely covered with _birds_. Wallpapered with drawings of birds. Steve saw the look on his face and laughed.

“I probably should’ve warned you,” Steve giggled. “Sam likes birds. A _lot_.”

“I’d say,” Bucky said quietly, still taking in the scene. “I’m gonna go ahead and say we’re taking it to _my_ room when I’m ready. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get it up with 200 pigeons watching me.”

“No? Just 20 art students?” Steve ribbed. “And your room has bunk beds, might be even more awkward than the birds.”

“Oh hush,” Bucky said.

“Steve drew all of those birds, and they’re not all pigeons,” Sam countered with a laugh, “so you’d better get on him about it, too.”

“Oh, you can _bet_ I’ll be getting on him,” Bucky said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Aaaand I think that’s my cue to leave,” Sam said, standing up and grabbing his jacket. “You’d better not be making out on my bed while I’m gone, ok?”

“Scout’s honor,” Steve vowed, raising his fingers in the Boy Scout salute.

“You forget that I _know_ you, Steve. You can’t pull that “Scout’s honor” thing on me.”

“Spoilsport.”

“I’m getting lunch and then I’ll be next door with Scott and my English homework. Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

With that, Sam closed the door behind him leaving Steve and Bucky alone together.

“What did he mean by that?” Bucky asked, grabbing a burrito and settling in at Steve’s desk.

“Which part?” Steve replied, grabbing his burrito and settling onto his bed.

“All of it, really. ‘Don’t do anything stupid until I get back’?”

“He’s afraid you’re not going to take it well when I bare my soul to you.”

“Why? What’s your deep, dark secret? And you told him before me?”

“He’s known for a while. He’s been my best friend since middle school, I couldn’t exactly hide it from him.”

“Is it an embarrassing tattoo?” Bucky joked.

“No.”

“Unusual body hair?”

“No, I–”

“You’re colorblind?”

“Actually, yes, red-green, but that’s not–”

“Wait, really? You’re a colorblind artist?”

“Yes, that’s why I work in grayscale. But if you would please just shut up and not turn this into a joke, I will tell you,” Steve said, anger creeping into his voice.

Bucky flinched. “Ok, sorry. Sometimes I make inappropriate jokes when I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous? It’s my secret,” Steve said, a little surprised, anger abating.

“Well, I wasn’t nervous until you said that he said that he thought I’d take it badly when you tell me.”

“It’s not bad, really. Sam just worries sometimes. With you, it’s the whole Indiana thing.”

“What’s wrong with Indiana?”

Steve stuck out one hand and began tallying on his fingers. “Ok, well, there’s Mike Pence…”

Bucky raised his hand. “Fair enough; I’ll give you that.”

“Good. Now, are you ready to listen?” Steve asked sternly.

“Yep,” Bucky replied, taking a big bite of his burrito to show how serious he was about not interrupting.

Steve leaned back against the wall, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and spoke. “I’m trans.”

“Thash all?” Bucky said through a mouthful of rice and beans and guacamole.

“You’re taking this a lot easier than I expected.”

“Well, how else do you want me to take it? I met you, you’re cute, I like you for you, for your personality and not just for your oh-so-impressive bean-pole physique” (Steve pulled a face at this comment). “Does it make things a little more complicated? Yeah, but we’ll deal with anything that comes up when it comes up,” Bucky said, gesturing with his burrito.

Steve nodded. “Alright. Sounds good to me.”

“And what’s coming up now, is you should finish your burrito before it gets cold. If the guys on your floor are anything like the guys on mine, then I don’t trust that microwave out there.”

“Yeah, I gotta agree with you there. I used it once. My food smelled like soap and burnt plastic,” Steve laughed and started back in on his burrito.

\------------

They sat together on Steve’s bed, leaning against the wall, letting the food coma overtake them. Steve tucked himself into Bucky’s armpit. Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“So, when you said “Scout’s honor,” were you using that in a general sense or were you actually a Scout as a kid?” Bucky asked.

“Yep. _Girl_ Scout, but still a Scout.”

“Sell a lot of cookies?”

“I won the cookie sales award for the region four years in a row,” Steve bragged.

“How’d you manage that?”

“People felt sorry for the tiny, asthmatic little kid with no dad, just trying to sell a few cookies and earn a badge, so they tended to buy more.”

“You little con artist,” Bucky teased.

“It wasn’t _really_ a con, I really was tiny and asthmatic and I never met my dad. And it’s all still true,” Steve shrugged.

\---------------

“So, I notice a distinct lack of evidence of fighting. He took it well?” Sam asked later that evening.

“Very well. Better than I had expected, even.”

“Not gonna lie, that _is_ a pleasant surprise. Are you glad I won’t have to kick his ass for you?”

“Yeah, but I’d’ve kicked his ass first, you know. And besides, I’ve got _other_ plans for his ass.”

“Do you just not have a filter or are you doing this on purpose?” Sam said with a grimace.

“A bit of both,” Steve laughed.


	8. Chapter 8

_Ostensibly_ , Bucky, Darcy, Clint, Bruce, and Betty were all gathered in the library to study. What had _actually_ happened was that they had studied like good little students for about 15 minutes before Darcy’s text alert sounded, she looked at the screen, and squealed loud enough to startle a student napping in a carrel 30 yards away.

“What the hell was that, Darcy?” Clint asked, grimacing and pressing his fingers to his ears. “I think you broke my hearing aids, they’re not designed to deal with sounds in that register.”

“You all know Ian?” Darcy replied, glancing expectantly around the table.

“No?” Bruce said slowly, looking up from his book.

“Well, we kinda dated in high school before we both figured out we were gay, but we stayed friends and both ended up here for college. And he says he just saw Jane in the LGBTQ section downstairs and she, and I quote ‘had that new baby gay look on her face like she was excited and a little scared’ and, and, and aaahhhh!” 

Darcy squealed again. Clint flinched, Betty looked at Bruce like ‘how do you put up with these people?’, Bruce shrugged, and Bucky looked vaguely embarrassed. Carrel-student grabbed his backpack and left the area. A librarian came up to them and politely informed them that they were all being evicted from the library for the rest of the day and please remember to be quieter when they were allowed back in.

\-------

“So, now what?” Clint asked as they all walked back to the dorms. “Just ‘cause Jane might like girls doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll be into you.”

“Yeah, but it means I have a _chance_ now!” Darcy said, still bouncing a little with excitement over the news.

“Isn’t she a grad student?” Betty asked. “I think she TA’s for Dr. Zimmer’s class and undergrads aren’t allowed to TA.”

“Yes she’s a grad student, and even so, she can’t be _that_ much older than me,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes.

“If she’s followed the traditional student track, then she started college at 17 or 18, graduated undergrad at 21 or 22, and she’s been here for a few years already, so she’s probably 24 or 25,” Bruce explained. “Which means there could be an 8 year age gap between you two, so I’m gonna have to say no.”

“I’m 22,” Darcy huffed.

“What?” Clint asked, mildly startled. “You’re in my freshman calculus class. “How are you 22?”

“It took me a while to decide on a major, ok? I started out as a dance major, then I was English lit, then I stuck with political science for three years until I finally took my natural sciences gen-ed credit and Jane was my class’s TA and I knew right then and there I was destined for a physics degree. And hey, I’m not half bad at it, _so there_.”

“Ok so changing the topic a little,” Clint interjected. “Bucko, how’s _your_ budding relationship going?”

“Eh, pretty good,” Bucky replied, shrugging. “We’ve only officially been dating for a week now, but it’s been a good week so far. He’s been really open and honest with me, so I like that. And he seems to trust me, too. When I told him I wasn’t ready to tell him some stuff about my past, he didn’t push. I mean, he can be a little _intense_ , but he’s not malicious. I like him.”

“Hey, that’s good,” Clint said, giving Bucky a light punch on the shoulder. “Just remember to warn me if you’re gonna bring him over. Natasha’s roommate walked in on us once and she was _not_ happy. Natasha wasn’t exactly pleased, either, since I was supposed to be the one putting the traditional door-sock up and I wasn’t actually _wearing_ socks that day, so I just… didn’t do it.”

Darcy leaned in and went “OoooOOOOOoohhhh” and made kissy noises until Bucky laughed and pushed her into a hedge. She got back up and continued making kissy noises from a safer distance.


	9. Chapter 9

Clint caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. The door opened and he quickly raised his Nerf crossbow and fired off one dart. The foam projectile hit Bucky right between the eyes.

“Hey!” Bucky yelped. Steve ducked back into the hallway and out of range, trying not to laugh too hard.

“That’s for forgetting the sock and making me walk in on you two making out yesterday evening,” Clint said, putting his hand out to take back the Nerf dart Bucky was returning.

“I said I was sorry,” Bucky said, turning back to go retrieve Steve from the hallway.

“What was that?” Clint said, hand theatrically cupped around his ear. “I can’t lip-read if you’re facing away from me.”

“You have your hearing aids turned on, I know you can hear me,” Bucky said as he walked back in. But he did face Clint so that in case he _did_ need to lip-read, he could. But he was pretty sure it was just a ploy to get him to say sorry again. Not that he was entirely sorry.

Clint put his fingers up to his ears. “Oh, would you look at that, I’ve gone and turned my hearing aids off,” he said, voice positively dripping with suggestion. “Guess I won’t be able to hear you two making out on the bottom bunk, or see you from up here. It’d be a shame to miss this opportunity.”

“You mean it?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, sure. I don’t want to watch, but you two deserve to be happy with each other. Just don’t shake the bed too much or I _will_ get you with the suction cup darts when you least expect it,” Clint replied.

Bucky made a face at him before Steve grabbed his sleeve and pulled him down.

\------------

Steve and Bucky lay curled up together on the narrow dorm bed. Bucky lay his head on Steve’s chest, and Steve was running his fingers lazily through Bucky’s hair.

“You’re sure you’re ok with this? I mean, me touching your…?” Bucky asked a little hesitantly.

“My chest? You do realize that’s a perfectly normal gender-neutral term, right? And yes, you’re fine. If I wasn’t ok, believe me, you’d know. Honestly, I don’t really mind it that much. I mean, I don’t _like_ -like it, but I’m not super dysphoric about it, either. I lucked out that they’re small enough that I can get away with just using a compression shirt. I tried using a real binder once, but it aggravated my asthma, so I had to stop. Plus, my ex-girlfriend liked ‘em, so that helped me deal.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why’d you break up? The whole ‘different colleges’ thing?”

“Nah. As I started transitioning, she figured out that, while she liked me well enough to stay friends, she couldn’t see herself dating a man. I was a little tiny baby butch back in high school, but I was also kind of fighting myself over whether I could be happy identifying as female, even masculine-presenting, and staying with her, or if transitioning was the best thing for me. (Obviously, you can see how that ended up going.) I liked her a lot, but I didn’t want either of us to be stuck in a relationship that wasn’t going where we could _both_ be happy, so we broke up. It was clean. We keep in touch on Facebook, I follow her on Instagram. She’d follow me back but I don’t actually post anything there. I mean, when she’s not too busy being pre-law at Harvard, that is. You really will have to meet her someday, you’ll like her.”

Steve shifted a bit to get a better view of Bucky’s face and spoke again.

“You keep asking about my ex; you’re not jealous of her, are you?”

“No… well, maybe a little. But not like that,” Bucky replied. “I guess I just like to hear about you two being happy because it means that you and me being happy isn’t a fluke. Not that you being happy would be a fluke. I mean, I’m happy that I’m happy.” He paused. “I never told you how-slash-why I ended up in New York, did I?”

“No, but I’m getting curious,” Steve said, continuing to stroke Bucky’s hair.

“I’m not _old_ , but I’m definitely older than most of the other freshmen here. I didn’t exactly take the traditional straight-out-of-high-school route,” Bucky began explaining. “Without going into too much detail, there was a car accident. That’s where my lack of a left arm and the short-term memory issues came from. I didn’t finish high school. My boyfriend at the time did, and he got into IU. I followed him, thinking that maybe if I could get my shit together, I could apply there, too. We got an apartment together off campus. I was supposed to pay half the rent, but I couldn’t hold down a job, not with the whole town full of broke college students with both arms and fewer issues. Long story short, I didn’t get my shit together. I got down. I didn’t know many people in Bloomington, and those friends I did have from high school who went to IU, we didn’t hang out with them anymore. I felt isolated, felt like he was keeping me away from my friends. We fought. It wasn’t exactly a healthy relationship. I ran away. I chose New York because it was big and far away. I mean, maybe he wouldn’t try to follow me, but if he did, I was gonna make it as hard to find me as I could. I couch-surfed for a while, and one of the guys I met while doing that helped me get my GED and apply here. And, well, here I am.”

Steve pulled Bucky into a hug and kissed the top of his head. “I’m glad you’re here now, but I’m really sorry that it had to happen like that. And if you ever feel like I’m smothering you, please tell me. I know it might not be easy for you to tell me, or easy for me to hear it, but I promise, I don’t want you to feel like that.”

\-------------

They lay together quietly for long enough that Clint poked his head over the side of the bed and said “Just checking in to make sure you haven’t died or anything. Also, I’m turning my hearing aids on again. It’s too quiet.” Steve gave him a thumbs up and he disappeared back up top again. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earns the E rating. Just so y'all know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on language. I am a trans masculine author, and I am using the anatomical terminology I am most comfortable with for Steve. Different people may have different preferences and there is no one right way.

Thanksgiving break was upon them. Sam was packing up for the long holiday weekend. If he wasn’t doing this year’s meal at Riley’s, he would have invited Steve along since he didn’t have any family left to spend it with. But, then again, he might just want to spend the time with Bucky. Did Bucky go home for Thanksgiving? The guy had talked about not having seen his family in a while. There was just one last thing to do before heading out. A few clicks later, he closed up his laptop, slid it into his carrier bag, and left the dorm. It was up to Steve now to decide whether or not he’d act on it.

\-----------

Steve read Sam’s email out loud. “‘Steve. I’m sorry if I might have started off on the wrong foot about your relationship. Please accept this peace offering. Try and guess which songs I picked and which ones Riley did. Also, if I’m in the room if and when you want use this, please warn me so I can find somewhere else to be.’ And there’s a Spotify link.”

Steve clicked the link. And laughed.

“It’s a Marvin Gaye playlist. You think they’re trying to tell me something?”

“Well, I think it sounds like a good idea. I think I’m ready. What about you?” Bucky asked.

“I’ve _been_ ready for a while, but I don’t feel the need for background music. Especially since blasting Marvin Gaye isn’t gonna fool _anyone_ about what’s going on in here.”

“It’s Thanksgiving, who’s even still here on this floor to hear us?” Bucky said, double checking that the door was properly locked and that the blinds were closed in the right direction.

Steve pulled a nondescript shoebox out from under his bed.

“I was beginning to despair of ever getting to use most of these things,” Steve said, half to himself.

“What’s in the box?” Bucky asked, leaning over Steve’s shoulder.

“Oh, you know. The usuals,” Steve said with a glint in his eye. “Condoms. Lube. My dick.”

“Your dick?”

“What, did you think I was gonna fuck you with Mr. Limpy? (“You named your packer?” “That’s the model name.” “Oh.”) I mean, I’d love to be able to use what I was born with, but it’s still a little small for penetration.”

Steve got up from the floor and sat down on the edge of his bed. Bucky settled in next to him with the shoebox between them. He slowly lifted the lid to reveal the aforementioned condoms and lube, wet wipes, a bullet vibrator, a leather harness, and an extremely realistically molded dildo which was clearly designed to attach to the harness.

“Ah. Your dick,” was all Bucky said.

Steve just smiled lecherously at Bucky and began to unbutton his shirt. Bucky followed suit, pulling his sweater over his head, hair staticking after it. He kicked his shoes off and wiggled out of his jeans as quickly as he could, standing before Steve in his socks and boxers.

Steve was taking things at a much more leisurely pace. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the light gray compression shirt underneath it, but still most of the way on. He unlaced his shoes, tucked them up against the wall, then returned to his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders. He stood up straight, stepped out of his pants, and, standing mere inches away from Bucky, stared him in the face and stripped off his compression shirt. He ran his hands up his ribs and over his chest. Steve bit his lip as he rubbed his nipples, flushed pink and hard. Bucky’s breath hitched as he watched. His dick was half hard, throbbing now in earnest.

They stood there, together in their socks and underwear, for a moment before Steve took Bucky’s face in his hands and pulled him into a rough kiss. That did it. Bucky felt the blood rush south. He grabbed Steve’s hip and pulled him in even closer, pressing his erection against his stomach.

“Are you good to go?” Bucky murmured.

“Mentally? Yes. Physically? Mostly yes, but there’s still some assembly required.”

“Well, then help me lube up my fingers and get assembling.”

“How about you get your underwear off and I’ll take care of you,” Steve said, adding his socks, briefs, and Mr. Limpy to the pile of clothes on his chair.

Bucky removed his boxers, handed the shoebox to Steve, and lay down on Steve’s bed to watch him get ready. Steve attached the dildo to the harness and buckled it on. He settled it low on his hips and made sure the straps were snug. Tearing open a condom, he proffered it to Bucky. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“Sure,” Bucky said, accepting. “Pardon my ignorance, but why does a dildo need a condom?”

“You wanna take my dick to the communal bathroom and wash him off in the sink? Be my guest. Otherwise, put that sucker on me,” Steve said, rolling his hips and pointing the dildo towards Bucky.

“Point taken.”

Bucky lay back down, tucking Steve’s pillow under his lower back and lifting his legs. “Come on, when are you gonna get over here and get in me?”

“Be patient,” Steve said as he slicked up the dildo and his fingers.

“I don’t want to be patient, I _want_ you to fuck me, you cocktease. I’m finally ready and you’re taking your sweet time over there.”

Steve just smiled and climbed up onto the bed. He pressed one well-lubricated finger gently against Bucky’s anus, rubbing it in tiny circles. Bucky moaned and pushed onto Steve’s finger. Steve added a second finger, then a third, before finally switching to the dildo. He hooked his arms under Bucky’s knees and leaned in. 

“How hard can you take it?” Steve asked, thrusting roughly. “Because I need a little friction on my end.”

“Do what you need to do,” Bucky gasped. He grabbed his dick, stroking along to Steve’s rhythm. Alright, so maybe he had been a little over-eager, not giving Steve enough time to warm him up properly, but oh, he needed this. He could handle a little pain if it meant getting well and thoroughly fucked.

“You like that, huh, Buck? You like it rough?” Steve panted.

Bucky just moaned in reply. He ran his thumb over the head of his penis. He was getting really close now. He wondered if Steve could get off on this alone or if he’d need a little more attention? He certainly was _vigorous_. Bucky’s little internal monologue was quickly cut off by an intense, shuddering orgasm. 

Steve pulled out slowly, releasing Bucky’s legs and easing the pillow out from under his back. He patted Bucky on the thigh and leaned up to kiss him. 

“I’ll be right back, get you cleaned up. Don’t go anywhere.” Steve pulled the condom off, threw it away, and unbuckled his harness. He rubbed absentmindedly at the red marks where it had dug into his skin. Maybe he’d snugged it a little too tight, been a little too exuberant.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to. Besides, I think you’d be able to outrun me. I’m gonna be limping a bit tomorrow.”

“I didn’t overdo it, did I?” Steve asked. “It’s a little tough to tell how hard I’m going.”

“No, you didn’t overdo anything, it was great, really,” Bucky explained hurriedly. “It’s just been a while since I’ve gotten dicked down. I’m out of practice.”

“You be sure to let me know if I ever do get too rough for you, ok?”

Steve tore open a wet wipe and cleaned off Bucky’s penis and stomach.

“Mmm, lemony-fresh sex,” Bucky joked and sat up, dangling his legs off the side of the bed. 

Steve sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. “Ok, my turn now. And you’d better not be one of those guys who says they can’t find the clitoris. Mine is _kind_ of hard to miss.”

“I can do that. What do you want me to do?”

“Suck me off.”

“How will I know when you get off?”

“You’ll _know_ , ok? If you’re gonna need me to talk you through how to suck me off, I really wish you would have said something _before_ we started. Because right now, I’m still _really_ fucking turned on, and _one_ of us is gonna have to get me off. If you don’t think you can do it, then you’re gonna need to hand me my vibrator. I’ll let you watch.”

“No, no, I can do it,” Bucky insisted, slipping off the bed and kneeling down in front of Steve. “Please. I’m just used to there being a tangible end for me so I know when to stop.”

“Tangible? How about I push you off when I’m done, is that tangible enough?” 

“I can do that. And, well, do you have anything to hold my hair back while I suck you off? I forgot to bring a hair tie,” Bucky added sheepishly.

“Needy,” Steve teased. He climbed down off the bed, pulled half a shoelace out of his desk drawer, and returned to his perch.

“Sorry,” Bucky said in a small voice as Steve pulled his hair into a short ponytail.

“Don’t apologize, it’s not a problem, not really.” Steve quickly replied, reading Bucky’s tone and body language. He finished with a little bow and place his hand under Bucky’s chin, gently lifting. “There. All set. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Bucky replied non-verbally, leaning in and running his tongue lightly over Steve’s clit. Steve moaned and flopped down onto his back. Bucky continued, wiggling his tongue between Steve’s labia and licking the sensitive flesh. He began to suck while rubbing his tongue over the tip of Steve’s clit. Steve was panting now, making quiet sounds which might be Bucky’s name. Bucky kept licking.

Steve gasped and dug his fingers into the sheets, letting out a high, breathy moan. He squirmed and arched his back, hips raising off the bed, pushing up at Bucky’s mouth. As the orgasm subsided, he lifted one leg and gently kicked at Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky complied, sitting back onto his heels.

“Good?” Bucky asked, expectantly.

“Yeah, that was good,” Steve replied, pulling himself up onto his elbows. “You did good. Now how about you come back up here and let me spoon you for a bit. My clit’s still a little too sensitive to put my underwear back on just yet, much less Mr. Limpy.”

\-------------

It was a pretty good start to the holiday weekend, Steve thought to himself as he pressed his cheek against Bucky’s back, listening to his heartbeat. 


	11. Chapter 11

First day back after Thanksgiving. Lunchtime. Bucky was eating alone because Steve was staying a little late in the studio putting some finishing touches on one of his portfolio paintings while the paint was still wet, and if Bucky waited for him, then he’d be late to his next class. Darcy sat down next to Bucky, took one look at him, and her face lit up.

“Oooh, somebody got _lucky_ over break,” she whispered loudly.

“What? How could you possibly tell?” Bucky hissed back, glancing around so see if anyone had heard.

“A lady never reveals her secrets,” Darcy said coyly.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not a lady then, isn’t it?” Bucky teased.

“James Buchanan Barnes, you wound me to my core,” Darcy teased back.

“Agree to disagree and also to not discuss my sex-life?”

“Well, ok, as long as you’ll help me with mine. And by that,” Darcy hurried to clarify, “I mean I need some advice. Like, I’d been kind of following Jane around the whole last week before break, trying to work up the nerve to actually talk to her, because it shouldn’t be that hard, but I kept wussing out. Why can’t I actually talk to her? I mean, I had no trouble setting you and Steve up—”

“Yeah, you were pretty intense about that,” Bucky interrupted.

“—Do you think you could figure out how to get me and Jane together? Like, I dunno, lock us in a supply closet on accident?”

“Darcy, no. If you’re really serious about wanting to be in an _actual_ relationship with her, and not just a weird stalkery thing, then you have to be able to _talk_ to her. She’s a real person, not some cold, unapproachable science goddess. Talk to her. Get to know her. And by ‘get to know her,’ I mean let _her_ tell you about herself. And then you can tell her some things about you. Make sure your personalities are compatible before trying to get her into your bed.”

“If I remember correctly, you wanted to get some from Steve before _you_ got to know him,” Darcy argued halfheartedly. 

“The penis wants what the penis wants,” Bucky shrugged. “But that was September, and it’s almost December now. I waited. We hung out, talked about things, made sure we were both ready before we took that step. And not _just_ because of my baggage. I mean, that was a big part of it, but Steve understood that I wanted to take it slow and he respected that.”

“Ok, but could you figure out some way of making sure we _have_ to talk to each other? Pleeeeeaaase?” Darcy wheedled, pushing her tray put of the way, leaning forward on the table, still facing Bucky, and dangling her arms over the far edge.

“Grad students have to do research projects, don’t they?” Bucky sighed. “See if you can figure out what her project is and whether or not she needs an assistant.”

“I take real good notes,” Darcy said, perking up. “Research assistant. I like the sound of that. Thanks!”

“No problem.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, mid-chapter I managed to accidentally switch whose text color is whose.  
> Pre flu-mask, Bucky is blue and Steve is gray. Post flu-mask, Bucky is gray and Steve is blue.

Hey

Just stopped by your room, Sam said you went to health services

Is everything ok?

Probably just my asthma acting up because of the cold, but better safe than sorry. Been coughing a lot. I’m gonna get it checked out

Hope it’s not serious

Also, Sam said if it’s not just your asthma, he forgot to ask you to bring him back a flu mask

\-----------

Nurse says it’s probably bronchitis. Good thing most of my classes don’t have traditional finals, just the gen ed ones. Rest and otc pain meds for me, ear plugs and flu mask for Sam

He’s trying to study and I’m over here hacking up a lung

Maybe both lungs

Aww, poor baby

I’ll bring you soup

Remember when I spilled soup down your pants? ;)

Not too sick to flirt, huh?

With you? Never.

Kiss-ass ;)

Was that a request? Because once I’m better, I can try that out, if you want ;)

Rest. I will bring soup and Tylenol

I love yooooooouuuuu <3 <3 <3

See that? That’s how I know you’re sick, you’re never this tooth-rottingly sweet. Also, love you too <3 <3 <3

\----------------

Bucky set the carrier bag down and knocked on the door.

Sam answered, wearing a Hello Kitty flu mask. “Don’t laugh.” were the first words out of his mouth.

Bucky bit his tongue and tried not to look like was trying very hard not to laugh.

“ _Steve_ here is a little punk, if you hadn’t figure that out already,” Sam said without anger, taking the bag from Bucky and setting the food on Steve’s desk. “Hello Kitty was the only kind of flu mask they had, my ass.”

“It was Hello Kitty or nothing,” Steve said, punctuating his sentence with a spate of coughing.

“You get your boyfriend a Hello Kitty mask, too?” Sam asked.

“Yep! And one for me for when I have to get out of bed for my finals.” Steve replied, holding up another Hello Kitty mask, still wrapped in plastic.

“I will wear it with pride,” Bucky joked. He tore open the package, hooked the loops of the mask over his ears, and turned towards Sam.

“I can tell you’re grinning at me from under that thing,” Sam said. “Go feed your boy his soup and leave me to my Hello Kitty hell.”

Bucky pulled Steve’s desk chair up next to the bed. Steve was laying propped up on a pillow on top of… something wrapped up in a sheet. Laundry? Hopefully not dirty laundry. He had his blankets pulled up to his armpits. There was a half-empty water bottle on the desk behind his head.

“Mmm, smells good. What kind of soup is it?”

“Chicken and rice. I brought some tea bags, too, if you want something hot to drink. Cafeteria only had English Breakfast and peppermint, what with the holidays. I got a handful of each.”

“I should get sick more often if you’re gonna dote on me like this,” Steve said with a little smile.

Sam pulled down his mask and mimed a gagging motion.

“No, you shouldn’t. If you’re sick all the time, you miss out on all the fun stuff. When I came to your room this morning it was to tell you that Clint told me that Natasha said that Sharon heard from Pepper that Tony’s sending out general invites to a “We Survived Finals” party that the engineers’ frat is throwing a week from tomorrow. He also said that he hears from reliable sources that the engineering students throw the best parties.”

“We’ll see–” Steve said, immediately interrupted by another coughing fit. “We’ll see how I feel in a week. Bronchitis _can_ clear up in a week. Ten days to two weeks is more the average, but we’ll see.”

“Well, you’d better _rest up_ and get better then,” Bucky said, pressing the flu mask to Steve’s forehead in an attempt at a kiss.

\-----------

So, why do the engineers throw the best parties?

I don’t know. Lemme ask

…

Mistake

Mistake

I asked Tony directly

Tony lives next door to me

He opened the door and immediately said “I’m running on about 2 hours of sleep in the past three days and enough coffee to drown a horse and I have three finals tomorrow so this had better be good”

He had crazy eyes

I said “engineering party?” and he said “yeah it’s happening, open invite, nothing’s blown up yet, so everything should be progressing on schedule”

“Nothing’s blown up yet”?

I dunno, I’m not sure if I wanna know

I do want to know for science, but I don’t want to know for my own safety

\---------------

Update.

Clint says his source says the engineers throw the best parties because they have such a heavy courseload that they save up all their partying for after finals and just go crazy

Sounds wild

Yeah. And you better be resting up so you can get better for the party

Scout’s honor

Oh no, you can’t fool me with that anymore

I emailed my sisters and asked them about what they did in Girl Scouts. Turns out there was a lot of *setting things on fire* Becca says she went to a campout once where her troop just started tossing random items into the campfire. She said the plastic tablecloth was her favorite because it burned green.

\------------

Just finished my last final!

Woo!

Party’s tomorrow, how are you feeling?

Still sick. Not as bad as I was, but not party-ready either

Aww, would you prefer if I stayed in with you instead of going out partying? I’ll feel kinda bad about going, knowing you can’t be there

No, don’t feel bad about it. Go have fun, you deserve it. You had more finals than me, and I’m sure they were harder, anyway

You sure? Won’t you be kinda lonely with Sam already gone home for break?

One night won’t kill me. Seriously, don’t let me being sick stop you from going to the party if you want to go. I won’t get jealous or anything

Thanks :)


	13. Chapter 13

Bucky, Darcy, Natasha, and Clint (Bruce didn’t do parties, so he was staying in with Betty) arrived at the Omega Sigma Delta house at 7:24 pm. The party started at seven, but Darcy was driving and she insisted on being fashionably late. Besides, they were all done with their finals and, historically, the engineers’ party lasted well into the night or until the police showed up about the noise complaints. One or the other. They’d have plenty of time to party it up.

Clint headed immediately to the snacks table and loaded up his plate with cocktail weenies. Once Clint’s plate was full, Natasha dragged him off to socialize. Or find drinks. Or make out. Or something.

Darcy stifled a squeal and elbowed Bucky in the kidney. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Look over there!” Darcy said in what _might_ , very generously, be described as a stage whisper. “Jane’s here!”

“Darcy, calm down, you’re practically vibrating with excitement. You’re gonna scare her off.”

“I can’t help it!”

“Alright, but when you get the cops called on you for being a creeper, just remember that we’re all too broke to bail you out.”

Darcy didn’t have a chance to reply to this because Clint strolled back up with a red Solo cup of some kind of _very_ pungent alcohol.

“Ok, get this,” Clint said. “There is an honest-to-goodness _still_ in the basement. The engineers have been making moonshine in preparation for this party. I am impressed, a bit jealous, and ready to get totally wasted on what might have once been Froot Loops, judging by the rainbow cereal crumbs ground into the carpet. Natasha is betting the bros actual money that she can outdrink them. We’re gonna get rich. Come on down and get in on the fun.”

“Clint, man, you know I don’t do alcohol,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, but I do,” Darcy said.

“Darcy! You’re driving! And you’re all underage, I am not hearing this.” Bucky dramatically stuck a finger in his right ear.

“Relax, grandpa,” Clint joked. “Nat’s Russian, don’t argue with her about alcohol. And let Darcy have one drink now so she can say she’s tried home-brewed Froot Loop hooch. She’ll be sober enough by the time we’re all ready to leave.”

“Girl Scout’s honor,” Darcy said. “And I’m 22, guys, why do you keep forgetting this?”

Bucky sighed. “Maybe because you act like you’re 17? Y’know what? I’m not your dad. Go have your Froot Loop moonshine and please don’t set anything on fire, I know what you Girl Scouts do. I’m gonna mingle for a while, I’ll join you downstairs later.”

Clint gave Bucky a fistbump, finished off his drink, and he and Darcy wandered back to the basement stairs. 

As they walked off, Bucky heard Darcy asking Clint, “How does he know about the Girl Scouts and fire thing?” “He has sisters, they probably told him,” came Clint’s reply.

\-------------

By the time Bucky met back up with Darcy, Clint, and Natasha, he had been dragged into a game of charades, gotten into a lively discussion with a sweet but probably stoned girl about the possibility of NASA finding life on Titan (in retrospect, it was probably the commentary about ‘space whales’ that gave it away that she was not _entirely_ sober), had nearly come to blows with an aggressive frat boy who kept pestering him to go buy beer for the party (”C’mon, do us all a favor and go get a case of _something_. I don’t even care if it’s Natty Ice. You’re old enough to not need a fake to buy beer, mine got confiscated last week, and the moonshine stuff they got downstairs is nasty. You’d think a party this big would have _good_ alcohol”), and was starting to get a headache. Probably the cranberry juice and the sheer number of people. He was a lot better around people than he used to be, but usually they weren’t all quite so… not sober. The only drinks he had found other than water and the moonshine were a half-empty case of Big Red in the bathroom, of all places, and entirely too much unsweetened cranberry juice. Clearly someone had planned on mixers and misjudged people’s willingness to drink unsweetened cranberry juice or else had bought the wrong juice by accident.

Clint had managed to find someone who hadn’t heard about his reputation at darts and was currently winning handily, even with the moonshine he’d consumed. Natasha looked quite pleased with herself and only slightly worse for wear. Given the grumbles of the bros throughout the house, she had taken a fair amount of cash off of them. Darcy had found the karaoke and was singing along to Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face.” 

“Bucky!” Darcy yelled at him as she finished the song, aided by the microphone she hadn’t put down yet. “Come up here and do karaoke with me!”

He managed to wrangle his way out of having to sing, but only after a prolonged debate over Why Bucky Doesn’t Do Karaoke. Darcy, clearly a little tipsy, still holding the microphone, had climbed down from the makeshift stage (a couple rather sketchy-looking wooden pallets), grabbed Bucky’s drink out of his hand, set it down on the snack table, and dragged him up to the amateur DJ. He was only saved from having to sing “Total Eclipse of the Heart” by the sudden appearance of one Jane Foster at the bottom of the stairs. Darcy went momentarily silent (and momentarily bright red), before changing her request to a less embarrassing but still suitably sappy love ballad. Bucky slipped away from the ‘stage,’ returned to his drink, and gulped it down.

And promptly choked. It was not his drink. Someone had actually decided to make a moonshine-cranberry mixer. The Froot Loop moonshine was _pretty_ bad. But, if your only concern was alcohol content, it certainly gave you a good bang for your buck. He looked at the cup again. Definitely not his. The name “Clarissa” was scribbled on the side in eyeliner. Good thinking, Clarissa. Label your drink so nobody else drinks it. Too bad he hadn’t seen the name and had drank it anyway. Oops.

Probably-Clarissa walked out of the bathroom, noticed Bucky holding her drink cup, and started to chew him out. Bucky cut her off and told her to just get a new one. His headache was getting worse and he didn’t want to start an argument where one party was clearly drunk and the other just wanted to go home.

“Hey, Bucko, don’t tell me you’re tapping out already,” Clint said as Bucky dug his coat out of the coat-pile and started pulling it back on.

“Ugh,” Bucky said.

“You didn’t catch the ick from Steve, did you?”

“No, I don’t think this is bronchitis, just a headache. Probably stress and too much cranberry juice. I’m gonna walk back to the dorms.

“You sure about that?” Clint asked. “It’s cold. We could probably scrounge up some money to call you an Uber.

“Nah, I’m good. A walk will probably do me good. I need to clear my head for a bit, get away from people,” Bucky mumbled.

“Alright man. I’ll see you later.”


	14. Chapter 14

Steve looked up from his book, startled by a knock on his door. He fished his phone out of his pocket to check the time. 9:03 pm. Unless Sam had forgotten something really critical… no, he’d have his key on him. He wouldn’t need to knock. “Just a minute,” Steve called out and slipped out from under the blankets and crossed the room, kind of regretting not having put on socks; the floor was cold. He paused to cough into his elbow before opening the door.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, clearly not expecting him back so soon.

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky said with a big smile belied by his uneasy body language.

“Hey, come on in, sorry, I didn’t expect you tonight. I thought you’d party until you were all partied out and then go sleep it off in your own room,” Steve said, stepping out of the doorway and letting Bucky in.

“Well, I kinda did,” Bucky said, moving some papers off Steve’s chair and sitting down. Steve sat down on his bed, tucking his feet back under the blankets.

“I _am_ all partied out, but I’m not really ready for bed yet, and I kinda needed to get away from all the people and come see you,” Bucky said. “Like, I know I was there with my friends and I really did have fun, and I know you said you didn’t mind me going without you, and deep down inside I really do know that it was ok for me to be there, but I just started feeling a little overwhelmed and like I shouldn’t be out socializing because my ex wouldn’t have approved. So, I came home, I came to see you because you make me feel safe.” 

“Aww, I’m happy you feel safe around me,” Steve said with a smile and a stifled cough. “I wish you didn’t need a safe space when you’re feeling bad, but I’m touched that I’m your safe space. You wanna come up here and cuddle and watch whatever sappy made-for-TV Christmas movie ABC Family has on right now? Also, if I ever meet your ex, I’m gonna punch him in the balls, ok?”

“Heck yes. To both,” Bucky grinned, bending down to take his shoes off. “You still have those peppermint teabags I brought you? Because you’re still coughing and all I’ve had to drink all evening is unsweetened cranberry juice. You need a hot drink and I need a palate cleanser.”

“Unsweetened cranberry juice? What kind of party are the engineers throwing?” Steve laughed and leaned over the end of his bed to dig a couple still-wrapped teabags out of his desk drawer. “You go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll wash my mugs out and go microwave some water. I’ll be right back.”

Steve climbed back out of bed, located his shower flip flops (eh, good enough), grabbed his mugs, and headed out to the bathroom to give them a good rinsing out. The door closed and Bucky stood up to climb into Steve’s bed when the door opened again and Steve popped his head in.

“If you wanted, you’re welcome to stay the night here,” Steve offered. “I’d lend you some of my pajamas so you wouldn’t have to go back to your room, but I don’t think they’d fit. What do you say?”

“Sounds good,” Bucky replied. “I’ll run down and get changed and meet you back here in no time.”

“Great, I’ll have your tea ready when you get back,” Steve said.

\-------

When Bucky returned, Steve had propped the door open and was already settled back into bed. He had piled up his pillows and the rolled up laundry-sheet into a makeshift nest against the wall. He was holding both mugs of steaming, fragrant tea and had the blankets pulled up to his lap. Bucky shut the door after himself and climbed gently into bed with Steve, careful not to jostle the bed and spill their drinks. Steve handed him his tea, they clinked mugs, and Steve clicked the remote to turn the TV on. Bucky scooted in close to Steve’s side and sighed, finally starting to relax again.

“Feeling better?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I think I am,” Bucky replied.

“Good,” Steve smiled, placing his free hand over the blanket on Bucky’s knee and rubbed it gently. “Lemme know if there’s anything else I can do for you.” He punctuated his sentence with a fresh spate of coughing, barely managing to keep his tea inside the mug.

“You can start by sitting quietly, sipping your tea, and getting healthy again,” Bucky laughed. “Just breathe and relax. I’m here, you’re here, and I’ll be fine.”


	15. Chapter 15

Bucky returned to his own dorm at a little after 10 am the next day, startling Clint awake when the door swung shut.

“Hwwuuh?” Clint mumbled, rolling over and almost falling off the bed.

“It’s just me, dude,” Bucky replied. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I thought you were here? Where’d you come from? And if you’re just getting in now, who’s in your bed?”

“I spent the night in Steve’s room, and that’s my clothes in my bed. I didn’t feel like putting them away last night,” Bucky laughed.

“Don’t laugh, it was dark and I was drunk, ok?” Clint replied, kind of oozing off the side of his bunk and somehow managing to land on his feet. “Do you know where my coffee is?”

“Under the bed, where it’s always been,” Bucky said, stooping down to pull the coffee tray out for Clint, who was doing a wonderful impression of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

“Thanks,” Clint said, plugging the coffee maker in and adding his espresso blend to the filter basket and taking the pot off to the bathroom to get water.

When he returned, Clint poked Bucky in the shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows. “So. You spent the night with Steve, did you? Eh? Eh?”

“I had a stress headache and he was still coughing. We had some tea, watched Christmas movies, and cuddled a bit before sleeping. And by ‘sleeping’ I actually mean we were asleep.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Changing the subject, how was the rest of the party? You seem to have survived, if just barely.”

“It was pretty good,” Clint answered, tipping his head to the side. “I mean, the last hour or so before the police showed up for the lawn darts competition and shut the party down is pretty fuzzy for me, but I’m here, I didn’t get arrested or fined, somehow, and everyone’s alive and well, if maybe a little hungover. Darcy actually said ‘Hi’ to Jane before spending the entire rest of the night hiding under the snacks table. Natasha sat with her, occasionally passing her chips and dip, and talked to her about How to Talk to Human Beings You Are Attracted to Without Scaring Them or Yourself. Good times.”

“Well, I’m glad you had a good time,” Bucky said

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, too. ‘Sleeeeeeeeping’,” Clint said, drawing out the word and making air quotes around it. 

“Oh, hush,” Bucky laughed and place his hand on Clint’s face to stop him talking. Clint nudged Bucky’s hand out of the way with his mug and gave an unconvinced hum while sipping his coffee.

“Oh, alright. So what are your plans for winter break?” Clint asked. “Where does Steve go? You gonna stay with him? If not, my couch is still available, any time.”

“Actually, yeah, I’m gonna stay with him at his apartment.”

“Wait, he’s got his own apartment? Why does he live in the dorms then? Is it too far away to commute well?”

“You know the rule, freshmen have to live on campus. And besides, he sublets it during the school year, so he’s actually making some money off of it,” Bucky said.

“Ooh, smart,” Clint nodded. 

“Yeah. Well, I’m actually heading out tomorrow, so I gotta start packing. So, uh, have a good break and I’ll see you next semester?”

“Yeah, you too, man.”


	16. Chapter 16

“So I heard you spent the whole winter break living with Steve in his own apartment,” Darcy said, putting as much insinuation into her tone as she possibly could as she sat down next to Bucky before class started.

“I did,” Bucky smirked back at her. “How was New Mexico?”

“Home’s home,” Darcy shrugged. “I don’t mind going back, but there’s so much more happening here in New York.”

“Oh, I think there’s gonna be some things happening in New Mexico this summer that might make you a little more excited to go back,” Bucky hinted, slowly pulling a piece of folded paper out of his bag.

“And what would that be?” Darcy asked, taking the paper.

“Jane’s research project. She’s gonna be heading out to the middle of nowhere New Mexico for some dark sky astrophysics research and she needs an assistant or two. This is your chance.”

Darcy squealed loud enough that every student in the lecture hall turned to look at her. She slumped down in her seat and hid under the swing desk. Bucky laughed.

“But you’re gonna apply, right?” Bucky asked, leaning over the armrest to check on her. “I mean, you gave me that art class modelling flyer that got me and Steve together, so the least I could do to say thank you was find this opportunity for you.”

“Of course I am,” Darcy replied. “And you’re welcome.”


End file.
